


4πr2

by AvaRosier



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU: Modern Setting, Domesticity, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven and Bellamy just want to cook a nice birthday dinner for Finn, it shouldn't be rocket science.</p><p>(Alternatively, the one where Raven kind of regrets falling in love with two dudes because <i>really</i>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	4πr2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toflowerknights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toflowerknights/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Emma! Have some disgusting domesticity ot3!  
> Title is the equation for the surface area of a sphere. Like a meatball, get it? I'm so clever.

“If I could just—“ Finn begins to say, nearly hopping down from the counter.

“No!” Raven shouts, voice pitched just a little too high to be believable due to the panic bubbling inside her like the tomato sauce in the pot on the stove. “Sit your ass back down. I can do this.”

The sigh from next to her prompts her to drive her elbow sharply into Bellamy’s ribcage. “Don’t you fucking start, Bellamy.”

Bellamy gives her a pacifying hand as he continues to watch the pasta water boil. Tonight was Finn’s birthday and, as much as they would love to give their boyfriend a nice meal they’d cooked themselves, the simple reality was that both Raven and Bellamy were fairly inept when it came to cooking. One time, she had set the microwave on fire when she'd tried to melt some cheddar on top of deli fried chicken...with the plastic bag still over it.

They’d settled on spaghetti and meatballs…how hard could it be to screw up spaghetti and meatballs? “I don’t understand what’s so hard about cooking. It’s just science and I _rock_ at science.”

Finn’s laugh echoes behind her, but Raven’s hackles didn’t rise. She knows he’s not disparaging her intelligence. “That helps, but you know cooking isn’t always about equations. Sometimes it’s about patience, which you don’t have much of, in case you’d forgotten. You want your food and you want it now—not working for it.” Well, he's right, she can't argue with that. She hears the crinkle of a plastic bag opening.

Next to her, Bellamy finally tenses and sets the spoon down.  He turns and crosses his arm, frowning slightly at their boyfriend. Glancing quickly behind her lest the sauce explode, Raven sees the telltale bright yellow Funyuns bag and groans.

“And where, pray tell, did you get that?” He asks, using the ‘ _I’m your big brother and you had better do what I say_ ’ voice that had never worked on Octavia.

Raven has known Finn since she was eight years old, by this point in their lives they were as drift compatible as you could get. She _knows_ that right now Finn is shrugging and grinning blithely at Bellamy. (Bellamy has complained, on more than one occasion, that sometimes Raven and Finn were too connected, and he could barely fit himself in with them. To which, Raven reminded him that Clarke and Monty had recorded over an hour of footage during the past few years of Bellamy and Octavia moving in unison or giving twin bitchfaces.)

“They were my birthday present from Jasper.”

Nice. Raven smirks. Throw poor Jasper under the bus.

“You do realize that this is your birthday dinner and we’re probably going to end up in bed—“

“More like having wild rabbit sex all over the apartment—“ Raven interjects, poking at one meatball as if it’d magically tell her if it was cooked through.

“And neither one of us likes kissing you when your breath tastes like Funyuns?” Well, that  _was_ true, too.

“You do realize that I can easily brush my teeth and use some mouthwash after dinner, Bellamy?” Finn lobs back. Raven hears the rustle again, followed by noisy crunching as Finn bit into another Funyun. Bellamy stares Finn down for a long minute before springing into action, rushing at him.

This time, Raven does take her attention off the meatball sauce and calmly watches as Bellamy honest-to-god _giggles_ while he grabs at the bag which Finn is hiding behind his back, switching it from hand to hand and holding it high above his head in a game of keepaway. “God, you’re such boys.” Raven says disgustedly.

Bellamy finally gives up on the Funyuns when Finn wraps his legs around Bellamy’s waist and lands a kiss on his lips. “God, Finn, that’s gross—“ He whines.

“But you love me anyways. And besides, if you can kiss us after going down on us, you can handle a little onion.”

Raven snorts—out of the three of them, Bellamy was definitely the drama queen. The kissing noises are getting out of hand, though. “Y’all better quit the hanky panky. I’m not going to be stuck cooking the entire dinner like some cute little housewife.”

The sauce seems to have calmed down since she turned the heat down a notch and Raven’s so distracted she doesn’t sense Bellamy sneaking up on her until it’s too late.

“Ugh!” She yelps when fingers dig lightly into her sides, tickling her and making her twist from side to side to dislodge him.

“Feeling left out, poor baby?” Bellamy mocks her before dipping down and covering her ear with sloppy, wet kisses.

“Ew, gerroffme!” She manages to shove him away. But she’s laughing at the same time. “Just cook the damn pasta, Blake.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.” He gives her a mock salute.

Cheeks pink  and spirits considerably buoyed, Raven looks back at where Finn is quietly sneaking the Funyuns back into the cabinet and blows him a silent kiss. He winks in return and she gives the pot another stir.

She knows it’s coming before Finn even opens his mouth.

“You’re doing such a great job handling those ‘balls, Rave.”

“ _For fuck’s sake_.”


End file.
